Childish Games
by timelord-dominatrix
Summary: A younger Sherlock Holmes looking for some excitement in his life. John Watson is nice to be around, but he wants something different, something new. A little spice in his life would be perfect. Young Irene/Sherlock xx
1. New Student

It was a bitterly cold Monday morning in London and a junior was sitting at the back of his class, listening to the endless drone of his Mathematics teacher. He continued to assess his class, forming his own inferences and convictions on each individual. Just to eat away the boredom that started to gnaw on him. The seat beside him remained vacant. I suppose it'll stay that way, he thought. He started to mindlessly tap his fingers on the desk, which quickly drew the attention of Mr Williams.

"Mr Holmes," barked Mr Williams. Then in a slightly more composed tone he continued, "Would you care to explain to Mr Watson over here, who's having trouble with question four in the exer-"

"We know the angle of elevation at point B is smaller, therefore it is farther away from the building. Call the stated distance 'P.' So the distance from point B to the building is 'x + 322.' Take the tangent of every angle. Do the math, and the answer will be 221 m, correct?"

It was delivered in one breath, precise and exact...it was correct.

There was a small lapse of silence as the tension grew between Mr Holmes and Mr Williams. Mr Williams knew very well that the answer was indeed correct, yet instead he masked his astonishment with Mr Holmes' clever and immediate calculation with a blank and unimpressed expression. In a hushed tone someone called out, "freak." Holmes needn't bother to turn around to know who said that.

With a sigh, he recited, "Ms, Sally, is it? I'm not bothered by the fact that you use an immature name used by first-graders to try to insult me, honestly, how puerile of you to think that. So, I'm sure you wouldn't be bothered if Mr Lestrade knows that I noticed you and Mr Anderson both bear the same perfume. Maybe deodorant, perhaps? Either way, the smell is undoubtedly similar. Oh dear, your knees are looking a little weaker as well. Not to mention you were both missing during third period and fourth period, why, homework problems? I, for one, highly doubt that." From his peripheral vision, Holmes saw Lestrade's mouth slowly unhinge and he continued, "I'll leave Greg to form his own deductions."

"Sally, is this true?" an enraged and mortified Greg turned to look at Sally in disbelief. Sally said nothing in return to hide her agitation and discomposure. She quickly risked a glance at Mr Anderson, her eyes pleading for help. Anderson remained neutral and looked the other direction, his face turning a deeper shade of pink.

"Y-yes, Greg," she sheepishly replied, without looking him in the eye. She took this moment to shoot Mr Holmes a venomous look, who smirked in satisfaction and said,

"I never knew that you would stoop that low, choosing Anderson of all people."

She pivoted around to continue trying to explain her "innocence" to Lestrade, but saw no one since, unsurprisingly enough, he had already disappeared.

Mr Williams endeavored to get the class' attention, but to no avail, whatsoever. Ms Sally Donovan was surrounded by a swarm of prying students coming round to console her. Words meant to comfort her were simply ignored. Words of sympathy flew by her, like butterflies to a blind man. She remained stoic in her chair. Her face rigid, it looked as if it were trying to process what the hell had just happened.

Amidst all the commotion, Mr Watson rose from his chair and tentatively walked up to Mr Holmes, as if he were prey and Mr Holmes a lone predator. Holmes was currently concentrating on solving the bonus question in the textbook exercise. Upon noticing Mr Watson, Mr Holmes acted unperturbed but inside he wondered what Watson's intentions of coming up to him were.

"I mean no offense to Sally, but truly, I am astounded! How did you manage to acquire that information, Sherlock?" Mr Holmes merely responded with a small and indecisive grunt. Truth be told, Mr Holmes was, as a matter of fact, elated. Someone has finally acknowledged his brilliance.

"Do you know what people normally say to me?" he turned to ask Mr Watson, who then responded, "No, what?"

Mr Holmes said passively, "Piss off," to which the pair chuckled.

* * *

A few weeks have gone by and news came that a new student would be joining them. As to who exactly this person was, no one knew. It was all an obscurity.

Mr Sherlock Holmes grew fond of Mr John Watson and soon enough, the duo became the best of friends. Sherlock grew bored of his daily drill, so he decided to do a little sleuthing. Something that would excite him. Of course, he needed John by his side. It took a lot of convincing until Mr Watson finally succumbed. Sherlock was thrilled with his achievement.

They tackled a few puzzles and problems given to them by a few colleagues, but none of them intrigued Sherlock. Though they did find out a few things that piqued their interest, mainly Watson's: a) Mr Williams' life is reasonably stimulating - his red headed fiancee has apparently disappeared, and was last seen with another man in his mid-twenties, Mr Williams also used to be a nurse b) Lestrade cheated on Sally with Molly Hooper at the same time Sally cheated on him c) a boy called James Moriarty has the key code to the school's back account. How he undertook such a task of possessing the code, Sherlock did not know.

Another week passed and word spread that the new student was arriving soon. Sherlock wasn't particularly interested, though John wasn't as dismissive as he was. He couldn't help his curiosity, he liked to update himself with school gossip. John now had one mystery solved: it was a she. Inside he hoped she would be at least the tiniest bit appealing, he'd probably have a chance. All the fresh fish were taken, the stale ones left.

* * *

Thursday came and Sherlock's Chemistry class was disrupted by the arrival of the "mystery person." Mr Cooper gestured towards the entrance and a young woman stepped inside. Once she came into full view, John's mouth (and a few others) fell open as he scanned the beautiful brunette. Sherlock, of course, noticed this but wasn't the least bit as interested as the other men were. He couldn't argue of course, she was gorgeous.

John took note of everything. The way she held herself showed confidence and elegance - which he admired. Her glossy chocolate-coloured locks were in a loose French braid. Her outfit was sexy yet sophisticated and conservative, a cream coloured sleeveless dress that gave more definition to her alluring collarbones, and made her legs look as if it could go on for miles. Her features were stunning, really. Her cheekbones were fully define and her eyes, he couldn't decide which colour they were. Ice-blue, caramel, emerald? They were all mixed together like colours on a painter's palette. All John could say was...wow.

Mr Cooper suggested she chose a seat on her own. She introduced herself, saying she was Irene Adler. Jesus, even her name was classy. She slowly made her way through the class. Boys were staring and girls were glaring as she passed. Sherlock scrutinized her and noticed something in her eyes. It was not a look of confusion, it was superiority. How odd, she's new, isn't she?

After inspecting the class, Irene finally made eye contact with Sherlock. Neither broke it. Irene, still looking at Sherlock, made her way to the vacant seat next to him. As she sat down, Sherlock gave her a questioning look and she returned the acknowledgment with a mischievous smile.

As Mr Cooper continued with his lecture, Sherlock was given threatening looks from the other boys. He rolled his eyes. Sentiment. How defective. Immature. He glanced at Irene and she was, unlike the rest of the class, focussed on the subject. She was rolling her ballpoint pen between her fingers, giving it a twirl as well. He saw that her posture never faltered, which only made Sherlock sit up straighter. Irene, aware of his act of insecurity, smirked.

Predictably, she was assigned as his lab partner, though he usually preferred to do his experiments alone. She'd probably get everything wrong, he envisioned her endlessly asking questions on what to do. The thought made him shudder.

Sherlock grimaced when she finally set off to get started. Sherlock hissed, "If you try anything stupid, I'll demand you be that boy's partner instead. He's been ogling you the entire lecture."

"Don't worry, Mr Holmes. I assure you I'm not one to misbehave," she replied in a sultry voice, "though I'm flattered that you noticed."

"Don't be."

"Very well."

They gazed at each other challengingly, with a speck of admiration for the other as well. Irene broke it, as she thought it best to get started with the experiment.

John stole glances at the pair every few minutes. He was jealous. Why did she choose to sit with him, of all people? Sherlock repelled women, for heaven's sake. So how did he somehow manage to attract the best one yet?

Of all things Sherlock predicted, he was surprised with this, Irene woman. She steered him in the wrong direction. He was taken aback with her unsuspected intellectual capacity. She was a finer specimen to study rather than the bronchial brushings they examined during the experiment. She rarely asked him any questions whatsoever, which annoyed Sherlock. He was the smart one. He was supposed to be bossing her around, complaining about how she's doing everything wrong. She barely needed his help at all, she even noticed his mistakes, no matter how petty.

"Why woul-"

"Because you seemed...interesting to play with, if I should put it that way. Mr Holmes." Irene cut him off. "I'm rather up for the challenge," there was a twinkle in her eye that showed fierceness. He gaped at her in amusement and then scoffed,

"Challenge me? How highly ambitious of you."

Irene didn't reply, and continued with the work.

He surveyed at her, finding anything he could use for his deductions, but found nothing. Her face, apart from the usual purposeful expression, told no story. Her clothes helped a little bit, but they didn't tell him anything relevant. He couldn't get anything. He was blank. Something must be wrong.

As the bell rang, Irene packed her things and sashayed as she gracefully exited the room. Sherlock stared, what the hell just happened? Did he not get anything at all? Disappointed with his failure, he briskly left the classroom.

"Sherlock!" John called out, but Sherlock did not turn. Irrationally making a big deal out of it, his pride was hurt with personal humiliation.


	2. A Deciphered Favour

Sherlock slammed the door shut as he made his way back to his dorm room. He tried to shake his head free of the disappointment, but it clung on to him like a plague. It swallowed his thoughts, chewing his head, his mind, every thought was focussed solely on that woman. Possibly the only woman who would be able to beat him. She wants a challenge? Then he'll give her a challenge.

He paced around the room, ignoring all the research papers that had to be done by tomorrow. He decided to soothe his mind by playing the violin. Once he started, the notes started to dance in his head, they cleared his thoughts and made his thinking more efficient. Only then did he realise something oddly peculiar.

The scent was undoubtedly familiar, it was perfume, feminine - the intruder was a she. He surveyed the dorm and saw his bedroom door slightly ajar. He carefully made his way to the room, trying to avoid making any noise. His hand pushed the door wide open, trying to get a clearer view of the intruder. The sound of pouring water instantly caught his attention. A tiny waterfall was coming from inside his bathroom. He decided to wait, then he heard the squeaky knobs being turned. The intruder exited the shower and stepped out of the bathroom.

It was her. _Irene_. How on earth did she break in? Frustrated with himself, he had a quiet argument in his head for letting his guard down, and for distracting himself so easily with thoughts about her. He was in such a state of shock, he didn't process that she was standing naked in front of him, beads of water rolling down her skin, falling on to the dampened carpet.

She made her way towards him, Sherlock managed to maintain the eye contact. He didn't dare break it for fear that his eyes may stray and accidentally take a quick peek at the rest of her voluptuous body. She was suddenly centimetres away from him, the space between started to grow smaller and smaller.

She placed one hand on the side of his arm and kept it there. His body grew tense and rigid. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Do you have a towel I could borrow?" he replied with a weak nod and pointed towards his closet.

Neither moved to get it.

They stayed staring at each other for what seemed like hours until Sherlock finally said, "Why are you here?" she brought herself even closer to him, he dropped his gaze and stared at her mouth, her cherry red lips that led him to betray his instincts, as he very slowly lowered his gaze. Irene smiled, she was victorious.

The rays of the sun coming from the window touched her hair, highlighting her locks. The bright light made him see every colour in her tantalising eyes. The blues, the browns, the greens, the gold outline outside her pupils, everything. He couldn't look away. She was unbelievably striking.

He whimpered, and that made Irene win the battle.

He gave himself a mental slap for letting himself go.

He'd never been seduced before. He was never attracted to anyone before. But Irene was different. He realised that he wanted her to like him, and he supposed she did.

He saw Irene smile and make her way towards his wardrobe, in search of the unnecessary towel.

* * *

She sat on his armchair looking around the room. Sherlock sat on the chair next to his desk, examining Irene. Again, nothing. She hid her emotions exceptionally well. How did she learn to do that, he thought?

She then asked, "Can you help me, Mr Holmes?" her voice was serious. With one brow raised he answered, "And what is it you need help with?" now he was interested. She got up and showed him a phone. A camera phone. "Yes, what about it?" He didn't know what to make of it, was she going to show him a text or what?

"I heard from the other students that you were an amazing sleuth," she said seductively, "let me put that to the test," Sherlock closed his eyes and said, "Will you stop doing that?"

"Do what?" she was taken aback and he clarified, "Stop trying to seduce me. It's not working." Irene smirked and replied matter-of-factly, "Well it did a while ago. Besides, who said I was trying?"

Damn she was good. "So what about the phone?"

"I want you to encrypt a code for me," he leaned in and out of his curiosity asked, "A code on what, exactly?"

She turned around and looked at him with a hint of playfulness in her eyes. "All the more reason for you to have a crack at it, what fun would that be if I handed to you all my dirty little secrets without making you try, Sherlock?"

He flinched as she said his first name. It rolled on her lips and he liked the way she said it. What was happening? Sentiment, sentiment is useless. It's irrelevant. But the more he was with Irene, the more he seemed to defy that belief.

Sherlock looked at the VERTU phone screen. It revealed a series of complex numbers, "Where did you manage to get this information?"

"I misbehave," she replied with a mischievous grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "I thought you didn't, if I remember earlier on you saying that you're not one to misbehave," she placed her hand on the small of his back and whispered in his ear, "For you I'll try my best, unless you want me to do otherwise..." She trailed off when she started massaging his shoulder, Sherlock said, "Do you want me to get on or not?"

She gave a breathy chuckle, "Distracted, Sherlock? If you insist," with that she removed herself from him and said, "Go on, impress a girl."

That line ignited him, making his performance even more proficient. What he would do to impress someone.

The numbers of the code swirled around his head, sparking ideas and solutions and puzzles that needed to be put together. In under five seconds, he stopped and everything about her that he didn't already know finally made sense.

* * *

**Sorry for the long hiatus, had my exams, but I've finished with flying colours, haha! hope you enjoy reading the rest of my story :)**


	3. A Solved Riddle With a Kiss

"The numbers on this code represent a room number, 221B. The code is BBAB2, two B's stand for the number two and the one A stands for the number 1, respectively, number 2 therefore represents letter B. Moving on, the only 221B I've ever heard of is located in Baker Street, somewhere in London. And why I've heard of that place is because a scandal has occurred there recently, something important apparently, was stolen earlier this week - but even more suspicious is that it hasn't been on the paper yet since the government is planning to keep this specific event a secret (I know this because I'm capable of hacking their site without leaving any traces). Finally, this is my guess as to you being involved,

"The reason you're carrying a code like this is because you've misbehaved and from what I can tell, you've managed to acquire such vital information, is because you've done some _recreational activities._ Since I noticed you were comfortable being nude in front of other people, I gathered that you were obviously experienced. You've serviced someone specifically with higher power, that's how you got hold of this code - you're starting to become even more interesting, did you know that? Anyway, so after you've finished with whatever it was you've done with him, you took the advantage of his post-intercourse behaviour (he probably fell asleep) and searched through his documents until you finally stumbled across this code. Though I'm not entirely sure why you even need this code in the first place. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Irene stared at Sherlock in amazement, he figured almost everything out. She was indeed impressed, and she didn't hide it at all. "My my, Mr Holmes. You are good." Sherlock merely raised his eyebrows in agreement.

Irene moved closer to him and said, "Before I answer any further speculations, let me express my gratitude..." She leaned in and kissed him.

It was tender at first but then the heat and passion grew and grew. Sherlock lost all control of his senses. Her lips tasted so good, he'd never kissed anyone before, yet there he was, snogging an incredibly experienced woman.

The feeling was overwhelming.

Sherlock's head swirled once Irene granted his tongue access to her mouth. Little did Sherlock know what she was about to do next.

In one swift motion, Irene took the clip from her hair, and inserted it into his arm. Sherlock's lips grew numb and still, but Irene continued kissing him. Sherlock lost his consciousness and went limp in Irene's arms. She combed his wavy hair with her perfectly manicured fingers, and arched herself onto the curve of Sherlock's lean torso.

When she realised that he was already completely knocked out, she sighed and left the room, taking the camera phone as she left.

* * *

**Quite a short chapter, sorry! The next one will be longer :)**


	4. A Friendly Betrayal

**I'm so sorry for the long break! I was so busy and preoccupied with the last few days of school, I didn't have enough time to write. So, hope you enjoy this chapter! And thanks so much for the reviews, keep 'em coming :)**

* * *

Irene Adler did not attend school for the next few days, and for that Sherlock was relieved. The teacher said she went our for a while to visit her grandmother who died recently. No one found this suspicious except for Sherlock, but he tried his best to ignore trying to entertain or create more his theories about what she was really doing.

He resumed his usual routine and his mind was much more relaxed and less tense without her in the picture, out of sight out of mind. However, at times the thought of her pushed its way through his mind palace's barriers, begging for attention. Sherlock Holmes regarded these thoughts sparingly, he already managed to create a collection of superficial speculations about her.

What he would do to go deeper than that. He cringed at his choice of words, she would applaud him for it. He wondered what on earth she was up to but decided not to linger on the idea.

He continued spending his recreational time with John, though not a word was spoken about the previous incident. There was one question asked by John, he couldn't help his curiosity, the question poked the Irene Adler situation, Sherlock shunned it completely and avoided making eye contact. John didn't need anymore hints to tell him that this was a touchy subject. He never spoke of it again.

Sherlock devoted most of his time on his violin composing music. He finished his schoolwork swiftly enough to give him an ample amount of free time. After he finished about 2-3 hours of practice, he decided to finally give in to his thoughts and think about his attraction towards that woman. He couldn't stop ignoring it anymore, his affections were growing and it was all too less he saw of her the more he wanted to see her, and if he saw her he would want even more. Sherlock questioned his ability to disregard his emotions with ease, because right now they were betraying him. He didn't want this distraction, he _needed_ it. He'd never experienced feelings like this before. He suggested that they were just his teenage hormones finally buzzing. He was just young and impressionable. That was normally the case with people his age. It was probably that. But then again, he wasn't exactly _normal_.

She was his new drug, and right now he wished that she was there with him, he wanted his daily dose. He agreed that he would never confess his affections to her - that he liked the flirting and the seduction - she would just see him as weak and easy, he didn't want that. He wondered if John was suspicious, he most probably did but then again, everyone was suspicious _and_ jealous of him. Weren't they?

Sherlock felt quite happy with himself and finally felt accepted. He finally met his equal and for once, this was the only thing other people hated him for that he didn't feel ashamed about. That, and his intellectual capability, he was careful not to miss that one out.

* * *

Sherlock trudged along the school corridor carrying his things when John appeared in front of him with new cases from the students. Sherlock brushed past him and continued heading to his first period class when something caught his eye.

It was Irene. And she was walking with Moriarty.

Jim Moriarty.

Sherlock felt as if a bomb dropped in front of him. He blinked again and nothing changed. His arm was around her and whenever she glance up at him she gave him the smile that made Sherlock's heart swell.

He supposed it made sense. Two villains would obviously come together because of what they had in common. Betrayal. And that's exactly what Sherlock felt she did to him. She was suppose to challenge _him_. She was supposed to like _him_.

Sherlock saw Irene catch him staring and quickly walked the opposite direction. When he looked back, he saw Jim pulling Irene towards the bathroom, both had sly expressions planted on their faces.

Sherlock ran away, and regretted looking back.

* * *

Sherlock didn't attend school for a week and John knew why, he picked up quickly when he saw Sherlock staring at Irene and Jim for a considerable amount of time. So he decided to visit.

When John arrived, he heard the faint sound of a violin being played and stopped for a while to appreciate how well the piece was played. After standing for quite a while, he knocked on Sherlock's door, he wasn't surprised at all when it wasn't opened immediately. He took a moment before having another go at it when the door abruptly swung open, nearly hitting John in the face.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked him impatiently, "I just wanted to see if you were okay," Both John's hands were up in defence, Sherlock eyed him for a while before letting him in. Sherlock continued, "I knew you were there outside, why did you just stand there?" John then replied, "How did you know?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, "Ever heard of shadows? Well the light from the hallway made it feasible enough for me to see yours in the doorway. Now out with it, why are you here?"

John chuckled softly to himself before looking up at Sherlock. "You know exactly why I'm here Sherlock. Girl trouble? Don't worry, she wasn't right for you anyway." John was trying desperately hard to try and comfort his companion but to no avail whatsoever. Sherlock picked up his violin again to resume playing but before doing so he suddenly turned around and pointed the bow at John, "She's hiding something. I know it. But I just can't tell what." John glanced up at Sherlock and replied softly, "Sherlock, you're overreacting. She's just a normal student. Just like everyone else." He carefully added, "Except you, Sherlock... of course." Sherlock knew what John was up to and inside he was grateful to have a friend like him. But that wasn't what he needed. He wanted to be alone. That's what always protected him in the end.

Sherlock made his way towards the door and said, "I think it's time for you to leave. Goodbye, John."

* * *

"No," he whispered to himself.

Irene looked at Sherlock and gave him a small wave. Sherlock didn't do anything in return, he just carried on walking towards their table, with his head bowed.

"About our experiment, I was hoping that-"

"What was that about?" Sherlock hissed, Irene's icy blue eyes widened, "I don't know what you're talking about. As I was saying, I've written down a few things I took from my research that I thought would be useful-"

"_Stop it_. I know you know what I'm talking about. Why-"

"Am I with Jim? Jealous now, are we?" Irene cocked her brow and the two stared at each other intensely. "That's not what I was about to ask you," Sherlock insisted.

"Wasn't it?" Irene took out her research papers and said, "well then, maybe it's best to continue with the project." Sherlock didn't stop glaring at her. How could she be so infuriating and so alluring at the same time? She was an impossible puzzle that he was determined to solve.

She was about to show him her papers when he grabbed her wrist and softly growled at her, "I know you're hiding something from me. Tell me, or else." Irene returned his intense gaze and calmly answered, "Or else what, Mr Holmes? You'll punish me? I thought you found out that I was the one who gave out the punishments." Sherlock's grip on her hand eased and he finally let go. He didn't want to, her pale skin was deliciously supple and soft. "Whatever it is you're hiding from me will not be hidden for long, Ms Adler."

"I'm not hiding anything. Mr Holmes, shall we?" She gestured towards their unfinished work. Sherlock nodded his head slowly in agreement.

**_She will be the death of me._**

* * *

After Biology ended, Irene approached Sherlock and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Honestly Sherlock, look me in the eye and tell me you weren't jealous seeing me with Jim." She then hooked her arm with Sherlock's, he was surprised yet comfortable with the small gesture. He did nothing to shake her arm away.

Sherlock snorted and said, "Fine. I wasn't jealous seeing you with Jim." Irene threw her head back and laughed, a few heads turned. "You're a terrible liar you know that?" Sherlock reddened with embarrassment and tried to free himself from her grasp but her hold was too strong, "Don't go, Sherlock. Walk with me for a while, please?" Sherlock gave her a questioning look and tried to analyse her, but her expression was hard but nonetheless sincere.

Sherlock said, "Alright. But keep up will you, I like to walk fast. And I'd like to have a word with you."

They walked for a few minutes until they finally reached a deserted nearby park. _Privacy, exactly what I needed_, he thought.

As soon as they stopped Irene turned to him and leaned in for a kiss. Sherlock's eyebrows raised in bewilderment, but he quickly returned it.

He loved the feeling, kissing her, everything else disappeared, every thought, every problem, every doubt, he didn't want it to stop. He tentatively placed his arms around her to tighten the bond, and Irene responded by tangling her fingers into his dark tresses of hair. She angled her head to deepen the kiss, Sherlock's tongue prodded her lips until it finally slipped in side. Their tongues were intertwined and dancing, he felt Irene's hips slowly starting to grind against his. The ache in his pants throbbed, he was begging for more, but Irene pulled away to get some air. Sherlock didn't realise he wanted air until she stopped, their heavy breathing in sync. They were still in a tight embrace, and Sherlock didn't do anything to get out of it.

"I...thought...you...were...with...Moriarty," he took pauses after each word to continue catching his breath. Irene smiled and looked up at him, "Let's have that talk now, shall we?"


	5. Might Be Dangerous

**I had writer's block for a few days, sorry I can't post new chapters fast enough :\ I hope this chapter suffices :)**

* * *

The chilly air caused Irene to shove her hands into the pockets of her full length coat. She sensed Sherlock following her as she made her way towards the oak tree towering over the wooden bench surrounded by patches of grass. She patted the space next to her as she sat down, motioning Sherlock to join her. Sherlock followed suit and sat down beside her. He squirmed uncomfortably, looking for a proper position until he noticed Irene growing more and more impatient.

"Explain," Sherlock said.

"I'm with Moriarty for two reasons. He has information that I need for my current project-"

"And might I ask exactly what your current project is about?"

Irene waved her hand and said, "I'm not ready to get into detail. Also, it's entirely none of your business."

"Why, don't you trust me?"

"I don't."

"Fine. Have it your way."

"The second reason is that he's asked me for help on something he's working on, and if I tell you, I'd end up having to transfer to another school which I find too tedious to do. And since you'd know about it, you'd be his next target, which I suggest you try very hard not to be.

"I am required to be completely under the radar for a few weeks or I'll have the British government hot on my trail. You might suspect that I'm some kind of criminal but let me make this clear to you, I'm not."

"And you expect me to believe this?"

"You don't have to." She smiled a sad smile and Sherlock knew she was hiding something else, a secret painful enough that it's haunting her - Sherlock wanted so badly to know more about.

However, smile showed him how vulnerable and fragile she was and he was able to pick up at once something was definitely not right.

* * *

From a window, Sebastian Moran was watching a couple lounging around the school's park. He was in the midst of going to Jim's regular meetings held sub rosa in the obscurest part of school. They were just rounding a corner when he caught a glimpse of the two snogging while he passed the window, the group was big enough for him to sneak out and spy on them for a while. Then he'd go back to Jim and his gang. Sebastian figured that he'd watch them inconspicuously until either does something controversial. That way, he'd use it for blackmail and Jim would finally notice him _and_ he'd finally fit in. He squinted harder and that was when he realised something oddly familiar.

_Shit_. He struck gold.

Sebastian stayed until they both went their separate ways. He thought he'd keep it to himself until he'd be able to do something that would get Jim's attention. But then again, it would backfire if Jim found out even before he did anything, it would guarantee him a sure exile out of the group. Most especially with this matter.

Once he knew the coast was clear, he ran to tell Jim news about Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler.

* * *

Sherlock didn't know what to believe or how he should react. He rubbed his shoes on the welcome mat and entered the dorm. He hung his coat on the rack, put the kettle on, phoned John and sat down on the couch while he waited for his visitor to arrive.

Moments later, Sherlock opened the door to see a stunned John, his fist in the air ready, to knock.

"Come in, quickly please, we need to talk."

* * *

Once her last period ended, Irene felt uneasy as she briskly walked through the school's halls. She just had one more trip and that was to the school's primary building.

She was running late and it was already after hours, so she jogged the rest of the way. Her heels clacked as they hit the floor. She arrived at an empty classroom and was in for a dreadful surprise.

"Isabelle," she nearly screamed as she saw her sister being held back with a knife on her throat.

"Please, I just need more time. Moriarty is about to tell me what I need to know." Irene felt her eyes grow hotter and the lump in her throat throbbing. She glanced at her sister who was blindfolded and had a dirty rag that muffled her mouth. Irene was choking back tears as she took a tentative step closer to her sister's captor.

"Come any closer and the walls will be covered with her blood," he increased the knife's pressure on her throat, eliciting a squeak from Isabelle.

He glanced back up at Irene, "You have one more month. If we receive it any later..." The man took the knife and held it against Isabelle's hand.

Isabelle thrashed out as he slowly cut through her wrist, blood started to drip onto the floor.

"Stop, please! She's just a child!" Irene screamed and took yet another step closer, "Ah ah ah, and so are you," said the man, "yet here you are, doing something you shouldn't be doing for your age, but it's never too early to be one of us."

The man stood up and pointed the knife at Irene and said, "One month."

Once he let Isabelle go, Irene pulled her into a tight hug. She stroked Isabelle's hair as they cried into each other's arms. When Irene looked up, the man was gone. She felt a rush of cool wind against her skin coming from the open window.

* * *

"So are you two like a couple now?"

"John, get back to the point."

"Fine, it's just that, it starting to seem like it."

"She's just someone who uses people. That's all. And I am definitely not in -" _Love_. The word came out as a whisper from his lips.

"Sorry?"

"Will you help me or not?" Sherlock paced back and forth as he tried to break the news to John without revealing much about Irene's situation, which wasn't that difficult considering he knew little about it. So far, he's told him that a student is being threatened by an outside source and that he and John have to get a hold of the student's records to give them a lead of some sort.

"And how do you expect us to do that?" John was skeptical about the whole plan, and wasn't entirely sure whether he should jump in Sherlock's wagon.

Sherlock absentmindedly looked at the hollow skull for a moment before answering John, "We get in to trouble."

They both grinned cheekily in agreement.


	6. Unmasked

Math class was drowning in silence, save the everlasting intone of Mr Williams discussing the principles of trigonometry infused with algebraic equations. Some practiced the art of doodling, others found time to slip into deep slumber, others daydreamed and stared out the window, and others were preoccupied with their phones.

However, John was agitated and couldn't stop twiddling his thumbs. Sherlock on the other hand was unflustered and composed, nevertheless eager to get started with their carefully laid out plan. He just hoped that John would finally muster up the courage to play his part and not weasel out.

"...so what would the answer be if a= 96?" Mr Williams asked the class. Sherlock's hand shot straight up. As he said the answer, John silently coughed underneath his palm, "Freak." Sherlock abruptly turned his head, eyes wide open in shock, John went on and continued jeering at him.

"Might as well run off and join the freak show, I know a guy."

"Watson, I'll have none of this in my class," Mr Williams interjected.

"Do you really want to go there, John?" Sherlock replied as he maintained a low and collected tone.

"Why Holmes, does that bother you? Honestly, I thought you weren't the least bit affected."

"Don't be absurd, your taunts have done little to damage my self-esteem."

"Oh yeah," John walked over to Sherlock, clenching and unclenching his fists, the adrenaline started to kick in, "let's settle this man to man, because I am sick and tired of you trying to act so clever and smart, 'Oh look, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I'm a genius, big, fat, know-it-all!'"

"Watson, we mustn't forget who the shorter one is," Holmes cocked his eyebrow, trying to provoke the steaming John, signaling him to strike.

* * *

_"...punch me in the face," said Sherlock._

_"Excuse me?" said a baffled John,_

_"Do I have to repeat myself? I said, 'you then have to punch me in the face.'"_

_"Right, this'll be fun,"_

_"Ha ha. Hilarious. Just do as I say when I give you the signal."_

_"Which would be...?"_

_"You'll know it when I do it. I'm sure you're bright enough."_

* * *

John raised his fist and punched Sherlock square in the face, to which then Sherlock instinctively recoiled but regained awareness swiftly enough for him to hit John right in the eye.

"BOYS, STOP. NOW!" Mr Williams was frantically trying to separate the two from further damaging the other's face. The other students, however, sat in rapture as they watched the spectacle before them unfold. They hooted and hollered as they witnessed an exchange of fists flying in the air, the two started wrestling each other to the ground, noisily trying to defeat the other with the weight of his own body.

"That's it, Holmes and Watson, to the principle's office. NOW!" Mr Williams grabbed them both by the collar, dragged them out of the room and shoved them into the hallway, passing them a slip before slamming the door shut.

"Right, that was impressive acting, John. Good work." Sherlock offered John his hand as he helped him up. Sherlock straightened his shirt and John smoothed his hair ruffled hair. Sherlock's normally messy hair didn't need tidying up.

"Sherlock, you never told me you were hitting back!" John shrieked.

"Well, you never told me you were hitting that hard." Sherlock brought his hand up to his nose and cautiously massaged it. "Erm, sorry then." John said, as his own hand unconsciously drifted to his left eye, feeling an oncoming bruise forming.

* * *

Irene was absent from school again. She had more important business to tend to.

She tried to adjust the form-fitting, leather mini dress around her voluptuous body. It was strapless and ended just below her waist, so when she bent, it gave a sufficient view of her lingerie. She fixed the fishnets hugging her toned legs, trying to remove the folds. She checked herself out in the mirror, gussying up, making sure she looked desirable. She placed both her hands on her hips and stared at the person she'd become.

Her makeup was completely inappropriate for her age, but then again, this different persona was supposed to be in her twenties. Her attire was slinky and provocative, she felt nauseated by what she was seeing, ashamed especially. She felt so bare, it was as if the moment she stepped out, men would pounce on her like the savage animals they were. She bowed and shook her head, sadly laughing to herself. She retouched the bloody shade on her lips, slipped her feet into her stilettos, then heaved a sigh and put her coat on.

She stepped out into the chaotic mess of a world that divided itself into two sides: good and evil. Irene was unsure which one she was on. Right now, she could say that she was a tight rope walker, trying to balance herself on that thin line that bordered good and bad. The only thing she was concerned with was maintaining that balance, or else she would lose it and plummet straight to hell.

* * *

"Sherlock, we have to hurry," John was already perspiring, even though the room was fully air-conditioned and all he had to do was stand guard.

Sherlock was hurriedly yet professionally trying to break the lock of the file cabinet with a small pin he plucked from Donovan's purse. He tried to feel the lock, and when he heard the satisfying click, he smiled to himself and noiselessly pulled the cabinet's handle, slowly prying it open.

The cabinet labeled "A" was heavy, many people bore a surname that started with an "A." Sherlock flitted through the files, rapidly scanning for "Adler." Soon enough, his hands finally came in contact with Irene's student file. He tightly grasped it, smoothly pulled it out, closed the cabinet shut, placed the lock back in and fled the room. Chuckling to himself as he and John sped through the hallways full of ecstasy as they made their way to Sherlock's dorm room. Both aching to see the secret beneath Irene Adler's facade.

* * *

The taxi dropped her off in a deserted street. She payed the taxi driver, and shut the cab's door. She hugged herself, suddenly feeling a tad insecure and nervous about what was to happen. She shrugged it off, changed masks, straightened her posture and strode towards the colossal mansion before her. She rang the doorbell once, and was greeted by a butler that had the aura of an undertaker. He led her to the master bedroom and instructed her to wait until her client was ready.

* * *

Sherlock and John closed the door loudly behind them as they rushed to get inside the dorm room. Sherlock cleaned his desk with one swipe of his arm and plopped himself onto his chair. John came following behind, "Are you ready?" Sherlock asked.

"Just open it already!" John insisted.

Sherlock delicately opened the folder, his eyes hungry for the information about to be revealed. After a moment of surveying the file, Sherlock blinked in astonishment. The last piece of the puzzle had been found. Irene Adler's parents were one of the most powerful people in the world. And along with power, came enemies.

"Who?" John was about to reread the whole file again when Sherlock broke in, "Adler is not her real family name."

"Then what the hell is?!" Sherlock understood the puzzlement in John's voice, and felt a sudden pang of sympathy. How he pitied those with the average mind.

"Did you see the names of her parents? Obviously anagrams."

"I'm sorry, did you just say, 'anagrams?' Anagrams for what?"

"Of course they needed a different identity to conceal themselves from the world. So they used aliases. The names on the file were their aliases." Sherlock paced around the room trying to piece the clues together. He supposed the first thing to do was to make it clearer for John. He took a seat on his armchair, took a post it and started scribbling on it.

"Sherlock, things are not really 'obvious' to me, just so you know,"

"John, look here, this might help clear your thoughts."

John stared intently, his eyes widened in bafflement. "Oh my god," he muttered.

Sherlock smiled, proud that his accomplice was finally getting round. "Now do you understand?"

John looked up at Sherlock and said, "I still don't get it."

* * *

On the post it were hurried scrawls, undecipherable to anyone but Sherlock. His penmanship still had a lot of room for improvement. Sherlock sat down and began the tedious and totally redundant process of explaining his discovery to John. Step-by-step.

"Irene's parents are Chad R.N. Rilee and Krista D. Rilee. The aliases they used for the school are Erik Adler and Christine Adler. Look here, if you take the letters, "R, I, L, E and E from both their names, you form their last name which is Rilee," Sherlock took his BIC ballpoint pen and started crossing out the used letters from the aliases.

"Then, get the C and H from Christine, A and D from the first Adler, and you get her father's first name, Chad. R.N. are the initials of his middle name, Ronald-Nolan. Take K, R, I from Erik, T from Christine and A from the second Adler and you get Krista." Sherlock canceled out the used letters and wrote the name Krista at the bottom of the post it.

"The D in her name stands for her surname before she married Chad, which is Draycott." Sherlock finally wrote the full names of Irene Adler's parents, encircling them twice for emphasis, he hoped he came across to John.

Sherlock stared at John for a while, observing him as he started processing the newly given information, which took a few moments. John eventually glanced up at Sherlock, looking enlightened, relieving the young sleuth. Sherlock then realised he had to elaborate more to clearly present to John his conclusion.

"Chad Rilee was formerly in the government, working as their weapons specialist. He was an esteemed employee, and is famous for his work. You might say he's like 'Tony Stark' from that movie you keep watching,"

"Avengers?"

"John, yes, now don't interrupt please. Chad is a fan of the arts, especially when it comes to opera. During one of his visits to the opera, he met Krista née Draycott, who played the main role, Christine. That explains the aliases. Erik and Christine were the protagonists of the opera he first watched Krista in."

"The phantom had a _name_? Irene Adler's mum was in _The Phantom of the Opera_?"

"Shut up and listen. Krista came from one of the most powerful families in America. Their history was in the agency business. So, the two fell in love, got married, the usual boy-meets-girl scenario. After Chad decided to retire, he realised he doesn't want to stop doing what he did, so he and his wife secretly started a company that sold weapons he made, internationally. However, they decided they wouldn't stop there. Krista's other talent, other than being an actress, was being a-"

"Spy?"

"Yes. Thank you, John. A spy. So they added in an agency business to Rilee's growing empire of selling weapons. It was a merge of both Chad and Krista's talents. Krista's family provided them with enough money and people to keep the business going. Eventually, it became the most highly acclaimed agency organisation. Obviously, you wouldn't know since it was kept a secret from the public, that's evidently one of the main requirements you have to follow, if you're planning to start a business in that area.

"As their organisation grew, their popularity grew, and so did the amount of adversaries and opponents."

"Sherlock, how do you simply know all this?" John asked incredulously.

"Have I ever told you that my brother was the British government?"

"You lie."

"I most certainly am not. Knowing that is part of his job. He's acquainted with the Rilee's, in fact. He needs to keep his tabs on them to make sure nothing goes out of hand, with a business like that and all. Honestly, he doesn't really tell me, I do have a reputation for snooping around. Though my brother never really mentioned them having a daughter..."

"So what's Irene's real name?"

"I told you, I never knew that they had a daughter. I'll ask her personally if I can."

After that, Sherlock completely absent. He sat down quietly, hands together supporting his chin, eyes staring blankly into the distance. He ignored John's further questions, and entered his mind palace, a theory already formulated in his head.

_Any truth was better than indefinite doubt_.

* * *

**Hope you guys like this long chapter I've provided you with! To make up for the long wait...**

**The last sentence is a quote from The Yellow Face by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**


	7. Won't You Tell

**Hehe sorry for the really long wait...**

**Will try and update sooner, I was discouraged because I already wrote a chapter but then it got deleted (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY OMFG), so I had to wait a while before I got inspiration again to write this chapter, enjoy :)**

* * *

Two days after their discovery, Sherlock saw Irene at her locker putting her books in. She was about to make her way to her class when Sherlock cut in front of her.

"Hello, handsome," Irene smiled sultrily as she saw his face. She didn't know why or how she was suddenly so attracted to those sharp cheekbones and those blue green eyes.

"Yes, hello. Let's skip the congeniality and head straight to the explanations because I have just discovered some very sensitive information about your family-"

"Ah. No, let's not stress on that point, shall we?" She interrupted him by placing a relaxed finger on his lips. Once they glared enough at each other, and she knew that she came across to him that she didn't want to talk about it, she took off her finger and brushed past him. Though she didn't even make it five steps until she felt fingers wrap around her arm.

Sherlock said, "Have you forgotten? We have biology together."

Irene smiled to herself as she walked to her class with Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

John watch them from afar and cocked his brow, he felt suspicious with Irene Adler around, but then Sherlock didn't seem daunted at all. All the more for him to feel uncertain with her. Sherlock's already said himself that she's up to no good. But whenever Sherlock's with her, that judgement seemed to just float away. Does she know she's capable of manipulating Sherlock Holmes? Probably, but Sherlock himself would be aware, knowing him. It was probably just paranoia playing with his thoughts.

His eyes followed them as they left and he slowly grinned, happy that his friend managed to find...was it love? He thought so. Though it seemed more complicated than that.

"Good on you, mate."

* * *

Sherlock was staring at Irene throughout the entirety of the lesson. She didn't seem to mind, nor did he. They both enjoyed it, in fact.

Whenever they had time to talk to each other, they would. Whether it was when they had to do pair work, or the teacher had his back turned, or when the whole class just burst into a chorus of chatter enough for them not to be heard, Irene would talk to him about her previous life (excluding the delicate bits) and her own thoughts (which weren't at all nonsensical) whilst he would just keep trying to tell her whether his deductions about her were right, even if they were only superficial. She was a connoisseur at hiding her emotions and anything else that might lead him to more profound deductions. He found it both frustrating and enjoyable because of the challenge she's giving him.

"Don't." Sherlock said.

"I'm sorry, don't what?" Irene asked, curious.

"Don't dye your hair."

"Who said I wanted to dye..." Irene paused and realised he merely deduced it. "Right." Sherlock smiled and gave her a short break down of his deduction, "I caught you staring at Jean's newly dyed hair. I then saw your own hand unconsciously make its way to fondle with your own strands of hair, a possible sign that you're either a) self-conscious with the dullness of your own hair or b) you desire the same with your own hair and that you want something new. You're torn between becoming either a ginger or a blonde."

Irene rolled her eyes in reply as he leaned back on his chair in satisfaction. "And why shouldn't I dye my hair?"

"It wouldn't suit you, I prefer your current hair colour."

"Oh, and now you suppose I'll care about what you prefer?"

"If you want what's best for you, then yes, you should."

"What's best for me?"

"Well, yes,"

"Is that implying that you care?"

The question caught him off guard. Sherlock pondered on the thought and replied, "Perhaps."

Irene looked at him with a hard expression, which slowly softened until her features broke into a smile. Sherlock smiled in return, glad to have pleased her. The lesson went on that way, until it was time for them to go to their separate classes.

When they finally parted, Sherlock was thinking about her dying her hair. He knew the actual reason why she would want to do that.

He knew she was hiding from something, except he didn't know who or what from. Maybe both. It was still an obscurity to him. Though he knew what was clear to him, the thought lingered in his head.

She was going to run.

And he still wasn't sure whether he would be the one to help her or stop her.


End file.
